


A Bird in the Hand, and Avoiding a Swan Song

by SnakeMilk



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Bondage, Bottom Kylo Ren, Darth Tantrum and his Evil Space Ginger, Dominant Armitage Hux, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Hux is Not Nice, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Obsessive Kylo Ren, POV Hux, POV Kylo Ren, Possessive Kylo Ren, Power Bottom Hux, Resolved Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Submissive Kylo Ren, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Armitage Hux, Virgin Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-05-28 09:07:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15045635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnakeMilk/pseuds/SnakeMilk
Summary: Hux met Ben Solo on his first day of high school. He spent years watching and growing a fondness for the man, despite the idiocy of falling for a teacher. Said teacher, though, began to return the sentiment, unbeknownst to Hux. On the last day of his senior year, Armitage Hux rushes a confession and then disappears from Ben Solo's life for the next eight years... Ben doesn't take it well.Nearly a decade later when the two cross paths for the first time since high school, feelings resurface and confusion is at an all-time high.A modern kylux AU (Somewhat unhealthy relationships- no abuse though)





	1. Well. Fuck.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is going to most likely end up as a slow-updating fic. This first chapter might seem to have odd pacing and be a little disconnected, but I promise if you keep reading onto the other chapters it'll get better! Some of the disconnectedness just comes with Hux's POV and where he is mentally at this point in the story... the other issues probably come from me writing this chapter without proofreading at 4 AM. I'll try to put warnings at the beginning of each chapter! Please enjoy, I love you all! 
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of homophobia, mental health issues mentioned, implied insult to those with mental health issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux begins the Hero's Jounrey. Poor dude.

Hux knew exactly when his “little” crush had began. It was, precisely, the very first day of his freshman year. 

He was off to a rough start. Hux had just moved from Arkanis, a small city in Ireland mostly dedicated to factories and export plants. His father, Brendol “The Commandant” Hux had been offered a job in the United States during fall that promised better pay and more freedom with factory production. Hux senior was a lead designer and manufacturer of Empirical Weaponry, a weapon production and engineering business that had been booming with all of the war ensuing in South Asia and the unending demand for powerful killing tools. 

So, when Armitage Hux sauntered into New Republic High (a disgustingly obvious politically biased name), the home of the “Starbirds!” (whatever the fuck those were), he made sure to hold his head high, keep his spine straight, and exude confidence. It was already bad enough he knew he’d stick out like a sore thumb with his obnoxiously orange hair and, admittedly, distinct Irish accent. 

The day went by well for the first half. The students hadn’t teased him much for his attributes, and the education seemed as dull as ever, complete with already exhausted-looking teachers and enough syllabi to schedule out the whole damn semester already. He found a quiet corner in the quad, up against the main building of the school, a bit of shade shade from the overhang of the roof keeping him cool in the California sun. Hux pulled a small tupperware of unsatisfying room-temperature leftover stew out of his book bag and ate slowly, green eyes languidly taking in the hundreds of students socializing and laughing. Hux already knew he’d be the loner, the mysterious pariah who looked like he had a stick up his ass. It was the same at all of his other schools as well. Hux never minded though, he was content with people watching, and, frankly, he never got along with his peers. They were always either too stupid or too annoying to speak with. He had never had a true “friend” (unless the girl who was made to sit with him at lunch in his fifth year due to the teachers counted) and Hux was fine with this. In retrospect, it made moving continents quite smooth. He had no emotional attachments to anyone in Ireland, and therefore would miss no one. Easy, detached, and steady. Just how everything ever was and ever would be for Armitage, he hoped. 

His hope was dashed. The other half of his day provided the aforementioned “rough start”. Hux had been put into every AP class possible, naturally, but the counselors insisted he take electives to fill gaps his core classes didn’t fill. That’s how he ended up entering the metalshop for his “Beginning Welding I” class. Walking through the already wedged open door, he was assaulted with the heavy smell of smoke and grease, it was absolutely overwhelming and Armitage could already feel a headache coming on. He was among the last to arrive, he noted as he surveyed the new area. The vocational buildings were all far across campus, a long distance from the quad and all of his other classes, unfortunately, and it seemed that all the other students had already settled onto some shotty looking stools or desks in an adjoining room to the main workshop area. It seemed one half of the room was for seating and teaching, and through the door the rest of the space was dedicated to where the actual welding happened. It was a maze of machinery, with intimidating contrivances everywhere one looked. Welding masks lined a bench on a far wall like the hunting trophies his father had. Hux suppressed a shudder at the parallel. He was beginning to consider walking straight out and requesting an elective change when, seemingly out of nowhere, a huge beast of a man popped into his vision. He donned a grimy, oil-smeared tan leather welding jacket and his face was completely covered by some gruesome mask, presumably to protect his face and eyes, which had clearly been customized. It looked, to put it plainly, stupid, with bits of dull chrome metal looping around it like some sort of gnarled cage. Armitage observed as the monstrous man stretched, quite possibly doubling how big he looked, before unceremoniously ripping off his mask and throwing it with a loud thunk onto a table. 

Well. Fuck. 

Hux had been fully prepared to flee this ridiculous class, he had absolutely no interest in metalworking, wearing the gear that probably hadn’t been cleaned in years and was shared by countless students, and accidentally burning himself like a mongoloid. But this -this giant of a human- had changed his mind instantaneously. He had a large aquiline nose, plump lips to make even girls jealous, a healthy smattering of moles and freckles across his ivory skin, deep and soulful brown eyes that reminded Amitage of melting chocolate, and he saw huge ears poking out from under his inky black mess of hair that was currently sticking to the man with sweat. Moisture ran down his neck and his muscles flexed and bulged as he reached to swipe away some of it. He was larger than life. He was certainly not conventionally attractive. He was a he… and Armitage Hux was completely enthralled with this man. He was so fucked.

Beginning Welding I rapidly became Hux’s both most dreaded and most anticipated class. He absolutely hated the students, they were boisterous and idiotic, waving around the electrodes and using them as projectiles or swords, sometimes even daring one another to electrocute themselves on some of the equipment. He was only two weeks in and he hated everything about the damn class except for two aspects: the act of designing and engineering what he wanted to weld, and the frustratingly hot teacher, Mr. Solo. Hux had never talked to the man except when he was made to turn in his design plans before he could execute them. Hux hadn’t even made direct eye contact with him. He was content, though, to spend the semester silently watching the hulking teacher, drowning out his peers who wisely avoided him, they considered him the arrogant, friendless asshole. By the halfway point in the semester, Armitage had come to terms with the fact that he was intensely attracted to a male, especially one that was much older than himself. (He had researched Mr. Solo, and learned some immensely interesting things about the man, including his age of 22, and multiple dropped assault charges, but he’d reflect on those another time. If anything, Mr. Solo’s somewhat delinquent personality made him even more appealing.) It wasn’t that hard to come to terms with, to be honest. It was simple to 14-year-old Hux. He had realized that he found his male teacher striking, followed up with the gentle notion that he had, in fact, always found men strictly preferable to women, he just never acknowledged it. The rest of his time, however, was spent contemplating the hurdles that had come with his sudden understanding of his sexuality. He would never have a true heir, he would surely face prejudice, his pool of possible partners got about 90% smaller, and most importantly, his father would fucking kill him. 

The apathetic, unconcerned and collected Hux had felt panic grip him when he finally allowed himself to reflect on his feelings (Sometimes he didn't like having feelings, they were so pesky and over complicated things. This was one of those times.) in the privacy of his anally organized room. He felt fear. Fear for his father lashing out at him, yelling at him, belting him, hitting him, throwing him out on the streets, or sending him to a therapy camp. Brendol Hux was a deeply religious man, as he said the Irishman was (Hux knew this wasn't strictly true.), and held his Catholic beliefs near and dear to him. Armitage himself was an atheist, as there was no solid proof or even strong evidence of a God of any sort, but he kept that private from his father for obvious reasons. It seemed his self-discovery would also need to be kept under wraps until he moved out and was completely self-sufficient. Fine. There was really nothing else he could do besides try to keep his proclivities a secret and hope his father didn’t find out until he was ready.

So, after his weeks of inner turmoil, Hux arrived at where he was presently: halfway through the semester and accepting of his situation. He allowed himself to drink in Mr. Solo each day, and on rare nights when his self-control wore thin, indulged himself to thoughts of his teacher. It was quite simple and the routine was comforting, excluding the fact that every week that passed had provided him with a growing fascination with Mr. Solo that shifted his small crush into a rather large one. He still had never held a conversation with the man, and had only made direct eye contact once to date, but he was grateful for the unstimulating encounters he had with his teacher, if that's what he could get. Besides, it appeared that Mr. Solo attempted to avoid conversation with his students, and even other staff members. Hux noticed he struggled to maintain eye contact and fidgeted with his hands ceaselessly when he conversed with others. These introverted, shy habits were extremely endearing to him and he branded them into his memory. The man was just so attractive in his own strange way.

By the end of the semester, Hux was excelling at welding basics, of course, but he still despised the menial work itself. He left each day with hands dirty from handling the metal and smelling of grease or smoke. He had also completed a full background check on Mr. Solo, as anyone should for someone who accounted for such a large chunk of what Hux thought about. There were perks to being the son of a man heavily connected to the military, of course, and it took no effort to persuade his father to run checks on whomever he so desired, after all, it was “for his own protection” (or something like that). Brendol was a paranoid conspiracy theorist, afterall. He had learned all about Mr. Solo, or rather, Ben Amidala Organa-Solo’s (what a fucking mouthful, that beautiful prick) dropped assault charges, medical history, and so forth. Ben had apparently been a fighter even in his teens, as his first instance of assault appeared at 16, when he had beaten six of his schoolmates and hospitalized two. His mother, Leia Organa, a notoriously wealthy woman who was known for her charity work, and her husband who was in prison for smuggling illegal substances across the border, had paid off the families of the students to avoid official charges. Or at least that's what Hux guessed. The other charges were just as random as the first: Fighting a man in a grocery store, attacking someone on the side of the road, throwing a person over the counter in a bar fight, and so on. Hux assumed these charges were also dropped due to Leia’s bribes. She was the one who got him his job as a teacher at the high school her brother, Luke Skywalker, was the principle of, it appeared. No one in their right mind would select a man with no education further than his high school diploma and so many charges, even if they were all dropped, into the position of a mentor for young individuals. He had continued looking through records of him, his interest spiking with each new discovery. It seemed Ben was also diagnosed with several types of anxiety, major depressive disorder, and OCD. Hux had a hard time imagining Mr. Solo with the last one, but he admittedly didn’t know much about disorders. 

Hux took about a week to consider Mr. Solo’s immense baggage, such as his violent tendencies and mental health issues. He contemplated how complicated the shy recluse of a man was internally, what a relationship with the man would entail, and how complex his mental fantasy of the teacher was becoming in order to accommodate all of Mr. Solo's aspects. In the end, it was an easy conclusion: no individual had ever intrigued him as much as Mr. Solo had, and Hux would just re-categorize his “baggage” as puzzle pieces that made up the great mystery that was Ben Solo. Hux had no room to complain, either, he was sure he had some mental health issues as well, but he would never be able to get diagnosed due to his paranoid father. He had to beg Brendol yearly for vaccinations, even. So, in the end, Hux allowed himself to continue his twisted crush of Mr. Solo. 

When fourth period of the first day of the new semester began, Hux confidently strode into the metal shop for Beginning Welding II with a small, secretive smile on his face, his mind settled on his desire for Mr. Solo, and a preparedness to engineer new designs he had been brainstorming all month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This is my first time writing a fic, so let's all figure this out together, yeah?


	2. Adaptability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux finds out that welding class really isn't so bad, as long as you have a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems I accidentally went on a long hiatus. Sorry. I didn't really like where I had planned for this story to go, and I finally decided to just take it somewhere else. Slow updates will ensue, but we'll get there. I hope you all enjoy the chapter! :)
> 
> Warnings: Phasma brandishing a stick. Watch out.

Sophomore year followed much of the same routine. Sleep, eat, school, Ben Solo, more school, homework, and so on. It was grueling, tiresome, and somehow Hux knew that he would hardly be able to function without it. Having a routine was comforting in its own, very mundane, way. He could rely on it and shape his actions around it. If there was one thing Hux disliked, it was changes to his precious schedule. One of the most serious examples of this was his move from Ireland. It was not so much the act of moving, but rather being forced to completely destroy and then create a new schedule that. That had proved to be a large stressor. At night, it had kept him up at night and nearly spiraled him into panic attacks occasionally. Very rarely were changes in Hux’s schedule welcome. His exception to his hatred of the alteration of pattern, his organized way of living, was Ben Solo. He was a welcomed shift to Hux’s routine and had ended up making his life easier. His hour and a half of Mr. Solo daily were energizing, despite his awful classmates. Beyond his welding teacher, though, Hux did not want further changes. Of course, life did not bend its plans to his desires. His routine would inevitably shift again halfway through his first semester of the year in, of course, in Mr. Solo’s class, because why the hell wouldn’t it?  
Phasma had been a new transfer student, he learned. She showed up one day in Intermediate Welding I with absolutely no preamble and decided to take the desk directly in front of Hux’s, effectively blocking his entire view of the whiteboard (and by extension, Mr. Solo.) He was debating whether or not to tap the imposing woman’s shoulder to none-too-politely demand her to move, but his plan was halted by Mr. Solo aggressively explaining the minutiae of some project they had started two days prior. It seemed that this class full of relative idiots couldn't even put two pieces of metal together correctly. The only respite he gained from Mr. Solo’s badly-hidden anger at the class was just listening to his voice, which unfortunately was brief. He usually didn’t talk, and when he did, it didn’t last long. Mr. Solo was a man of few words, and he respected that (although his suspicions were that he simply chose not to talk because his words would be less than classroom appropriate). Hux startled back to the present when the clatter of people sliding out of desks and shoving around chairs in order to get to the workshop overtook the room. He himself began to neatly put away his binder when a large hand slapped on top of it. He looked up sharply and was met with the icy stare of the stranger who sat in front of him. Right. She was the one who had been blocking his sight of the front of the room. 

“You.” She said in an accusing voice, as if Hux had just insulted her mother. 

“Me?” Hux met her gaze, confused. He felt utterly stupefied. She turned to face him more fully now, angling herself to him despite the cramped space in the desk chair.

“What’s your grade in this class?” She asked, tone hard and steady. Hux only felt more questions arise at this but was too concerned for his own well being to deny her an answer. He was beginning to think it was a good thing he didn’t get the chance to tell her to move seats.

“98%?” He replied as more of a question than an answer. She held his gaze for a long moment, seeming to ponder something, and then gave a strong nod and removed her hand from his binder. 

“I don’t know about welding, so you’re going to teach me it all. I’m Gwendoline Phasma, but just call me Phasma” She stated, leaving no room for argument. Hux was getting mental whiplash at the twists in their conversation. He thought she was going to pummel him for simply breathing the same air, and now she was essentially pressuring him into tutoring her? This situation was strange, to say the least. 

That’s how Hux, the unsociable, unapproachable boy met his best friend, Phasma, the also somewhat unsociable and very scary girl.

It was perfect, really. She caught on quickly and from there, their unlikely friendship was all smooth sailing. His routine had changed once more, but he welcomed it. She was his ally in this sea of idiots. They sat together now in the chilly air of the shop, watching their classmates hurl welding rods at one another. He thought, not for the first time, about how strange high school had been shaping up. But, he amended as a rod whizzed past his head, he welcomed these events. It was probably good for him to experience these discrepancies in his normally steadfast routine. ‘Adaptability is a valuable asset’, as his father had said.

“What do you think of him?” Phasma’s voice broke Hux from his thoughts. 

“Who?” He asked, spinning in the seat of his stool. 

“Y’know. Solo. You never complain about him, Hux. That’s strange for you. Half of our conversations are just you ragging on the faculty, but I haven’t heard anything about Solo. In fact, you don’t talk about him at all.” She swung her gaze from their wily classmates and fixed it onto Hux. Her gaze wasn’t accusing, but he could tell it was purposefully controlled, neutral. 

He knew it would be useless to lie to her, and truly, he didn’t think it would matter much to her. They had a certain amount of trust between them, and he seriously doubted she’d be appalled by his interest in a teacher. It could be easily played off as a common adolescent fantasy. As for it being a man, well, Hux had already deduced that Phasma was similar to him in ways other than wit and work ethic. Best to get right to the point then.

“I find him attractive. I have complaints about his teaching style, yes, but I never found them worthwhile to mention.” 

Her neutral mask slipped into a sly grin and a raised eyebrow. “‘Never found them worthwhile to mention’, pfft, Hux, you must really like mister Broody and Probably Has Anger Issues to say that.”

“I do.” Was all he said, and gave her a grin in return. A welding rod from across the room hit him smack in the face. Predictable. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was the end of the semester, and Hux and Phasma were finishing their final project. The duo flipped up their helmets to get a good look at their creation. It was angular, all edges, and a bit abstract. He liked it. The goal of the project was simply to show control over the equipement. Their seams were smooth, no cracks had appeared, and it was all joined evenly. Phasma looked to him and Hux nodded his approval. She picked up the piece with a gloved hand and brought it to the water basin to cool. Meanwhile, Hux went about cleaning their area. He was proud of what they had created, and with so much extra time to spare. The final project wasn’t really due for another two days. He couldn’t wait to drop it on Mr. Solo’s desk. It was the one job that Hux always insisted on taking. Mr. Solo never bothered to talk much with Hux, even though he’d sometimes exchange words with Phasma. It had bothered him at first, but he had adapted and made it his mission to extract as many words out of their teacher as possible. One such way was delivering projects to him. Mr. Solo would always glance up from his “work” (a phone game, one where you had to make different words out of letter strings), eye the project, glance at Hux for a second (oh how he enjoyed that second), and then make a comment along the lines of “Nice, good job.” It wasn’t much, but he’d take what he could get. 

Phasma had come back with their now cooled metal project. She placed it on the table, and held out something in her other hand to him. 

“A Hux File, just for you, your highness.” It was really called a bastard file, but ever since Hux had chewed her out about not removing the excess bits of metal, she’d given it that nickname. He wasn’t sure if it was a reference to his family history or just his general personality. Maybe both. 

He gave her a smile and accepted it with a regal-mock bow. “Thank you, my valued subject.” He set to work, removing moderate imperfections in the cuts of the metal with rough swipes of the file. 

“I’m gonna go mess with the Phasma Cutter.” She said, watching him grind down the metal within an inch of its life.

Hux gave a small chuckle and nodded without looking up. Phasma Cutter. A terrible pun he’d made that seemed to have stuck, created due to Phasma’s small obsession with the plasma cutting machine. He thought it was telling that it had gotten to the point where they could make jokes about the class. Intermediate Welding had proven to be rather therapeutic, in the end. He enjoyed making designs and building with his own hands. The acrid smell of burning metal wasn’t so bad anymore either, and he had learned to tolerate his fellow students. Hux wouldn’t bother with the class if Mr. Solo didn’t teach it, though. But it was good that Hux didn’t despise the class itself anymore. Adaptability, he reminded himself.

“Hey, you did a pretty good job on that.” A deep voice from behind Hux startled him, making him nearly drop the file. He whipped his head around to face the speaker.

Mr. Solo stood there, strange helmet tucked under his arm, resolutely not looking at Hux but rather at the project. Hux was a little shocked, Mr. Solo never approached him on his own accord, and he avoided the rest of his pupils like the plague whenever he could.

“Oh, thank you. Phasma and I will probably have it done by the end of the period.” More like just him, once Phasma got bored of something she couldn’t be bothered to touch it again.

Mr. Solo simply nodded, made brief eye contact with Hux, and walked to the other side of the shop; presumably to break up the truly competitive “Who can Weld the Biggest Dick onto this Big Ass Piece of Sheet Metal” contest. This class was abhorrent. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

As the last half of his Intermediate Welding class began, Hux and Phasma had found themselves speaking to Mr. Solo a bit more. It was a very gradual thing, starting out with the occasional “Good morning” to Hux when he arrived, progressing to “How was your weekend?”, and eventually Hux was able to get small anecdotes out of him. 

“The school won’t let me order anymore of these.” He said, lifting up a leather welding jacket. Hux tilted his head a bit, looking away from Phasma, who was currently busy threatening some imbecile with a metal rod.

“No? Why not?” Hux asked, imploring him.

“Because they,” he gestured with an accusing swoop of his arm, “soak up all of my funds, breaking shit all the time. Or stealing! Last week one of the helmets went missing. Those things are expensive!” He practically snarled, crossing his arms.

Hux was somewhat astonished, this was the most Mr. Solo had really talked directly to him. He was a sponge for the attention. It seemed now that Mr. Solo was opening up a bit to Hux and Phasma, which was a stark contrast from a few months before when he would pretend like they hardly existed. Hux welcomed this change in his status quo as well.

Hux steered the conversation now, trying to goad Mr. Solo into speaking more. “Most of them do behave badly, don’t they? It is… annoying.” The man huffed at Hux’s understatement. It seemed to do the trick; Mr. Solo had continued talking.

“My mom, she, uh, she told me I would probably do alright here. Doing what I love. Welding, I mean.” His words rambled, he seemed unsure of himself. Hux enjoyed seeing this side of his mysterious, volatile teacher. “But I don’t like it. The way most of the students act makes me want to…” He trailed off and took a glance at Hux. “She told me I’d do better if I ‘made connections’,” he said sarcastically, doing air quotes, “but it’s not in the realm of possibility when they behave so…” He trailed off yet again, eyes doing a sweep over the shop. 

“Well,” Hux said, conjuring the most attractive smile he could, hoping it didn’t turn out like the grimace he had seen in his school ID picture, “Phasma and I do try to act civil.” (Minus when she was threatening a righteous beating to her classmates with metal rods whenever they said anything rude to her.) “ Hopefully you don’t mind us too much.”

Mr. Solo’s lips turned upward a bit. “No. I don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand there we go. Thank you for taking the time to read this, it means a lot to me. I appreciate all the comments I get as well, even if I don't reply, I read them all and love them so much. I'm just lost in the middle of Anxiety Town at the moment and replying to comments is, for lack of a better word, terrifying. Also, on an unrelated note, do you prefer Hux just being called "Hux", or do you like some "Armitage" thrown in as well? This info will be useful as I go back and edit chapter 1 :)


End file.
